


On A New Shore

by Nununununu



Category: Moana (2016), The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Interspecies, Mystery, Not Underage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Sex is in later chapter/s, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-07-10 05:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Sailing further than she's ever been, Moana discovers more than she expects, while Ariel discovers Moana.Moana x Ariel (both aged up), explicit consensual sex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Short chapters, though one/s including sex may well be longer. Both characters are aged up. Set after 'Moana' and mostly disregards events in 'The Little Mermaid'; no kind of historical accuracy.
> 
> Explicit consensual sex in later chapters, although it won't go into detail about the interspecies aspect. Not underage: Moana is around 20 in this fic and Ariel at least 18.
> 
> Disclaimer: both films and characters are owned by Disney, and no offence is intended. Not to be published elsewhere online.

It was a beautiful day.

Sunlight sparkled on the surface of the clear water, the sea as nearly still as Moana had ever seen it. She had never sailed so far before, never ventured so far from her people or the places she had previously discovered, and everything about it excited her: the different yet indescribable tang to the air, the smooth little islands she spotted every so often peeking here and there above the water, barely more than rocks, crowded with countless small bodies of unfamiliar birds. Their calls echoed after her as she sailed past, not wanting to disturb them or their sanctuary while the ocean sang in her blood, drawing her ever onwards despite the stillness of the sea and her sails. So aided by her friend, she sped faster over the water for the sheer joy of it until the brightness of the sun sparkling in her eyes alerted her to it dipping towards the horizon and hunger clawed in her belly, bringing her back to her body and its mortal needs.

There was land ahead of her. Moana slowed to see it, crouching to grab a banana to munch on out of the hold. Larger than those she had passed before yet still small, the island was at least big enough for a few trees dotted at the far edge of its sandy shore. It held the promise of more birds and possibly small mammals, if not larger ones, and was unlikely to offer many options for food, save what she could glean from the trees and the tide pools caught amongst the rocks to the sides of the beach. There was no real need for her to disembark when she could sleep on her boat, save for the spirit of adventure that called her to explore: Moana knew the moment she saw the island that she would land. As such she turned to announce her intentions to companions she remembered a heartbeat later were not present – Pua no longer afraid of the ocean but too rotund, Hei Hei finally too old to travel and Maui unseen for several years – and her breath caught in her throat.

“ _Oh!_ ”

There was something – _someone?!_  – in the water behind her. A bright head, alone amongst the vast expanse of the ocean; a bright head all too close to her boat; a simultaneously human yet not human face, and it – they – _she_ – she was staring at Moana just as Moana was staring at her.

Brilliant hair streaked with seaweed, so red it didn’t seem real, and pale skin, paler a shade than any Moana had ever seen, and a look of stunned amazement on the girl’s features that came close to mirroring Moana’s own, perhaps with a slightly lesser amount of surprise but with equal fascination – the girl had seen Moana before Moana had seen her.

“What?!” The word escaped Moana with the same airless feeling as if she had suffered a blow. She stood without noticing, unconscious of dropping the banana peel. Her hand started to rise as if to reach out to the girl and at that very moment the girl's wide-eyed expression faltered and she dived under the water with a stunning rainbow shimmer of – of _scales_ , as if she somehow impossibly had a _tail_ instead of legs -

Moana didn’t even think about it, diving into the water right after the girl in chase.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny touch of mystery.
> 
> Approaching the introduction of Ariel from a slightly different interpretation / angle; again, basically as if the events of TLM didn't happen.

She couldn’t find her.

The ocean stretched out around Moana, nearly as clear as the crystal waters around Te Fiti despite the hour. A shoal of tiny fish darted away from her, aglow in the rays of the setting sun, while an intriguing shadow lurked amongst long limbs of seaweed rising up from where the seabed began to grow more shallow as it reached towards the island – but there was no sign of the girl.

Or rather, of the mermaid.

For all that the flash of scales seemed improbable to put it mildly – more likely down to imagination or a trick of the light – Moana was certain what she had seen. After meeting monsters and demigods, the existence of merpeople did not seem outside the realm of possibility.

Gramma Tala had told her bedtime stories when she was a child, of a strange, wild race of people who lived under the sea. Young Moana had eagerly courted her grandmother for more in the teeth of her father’s disapproval and Tala had described to her a sea palace formed of great shell-like spires and of long ago sailors who leapt willingly over the sides of their vessels to their doom, lured by the sirens’ songs and dragged down to their deaths in tight-wrapped spools of the mermaids’ hair.

When Moana had asked her grandmother how she knew of such tales, Tala had always cackled and claimed she had been told them by a crab.

For all her interest and enjoyment, the young Moana had ultimately considered the stories to be delightfully perilous but just that _– stories_ – but she had leapt from her boat herself now, hadn’t she, and the waters were growing darker as the sun sank and the shadow amongst the seaweed was starting to seem incongruous as well as inspiring.

Moana reminded herself that she had sensed no aggression from the glimpse she had been granted of the girl and instinct had told her in that moment the mermaid was not foe. Also she couldn’t believe the Ocean would ever allow her to come close without warning to someone who wished her harm. Surfacing, she blinked water out of her eyes and sought her friend’s guidance.

“Ocean?”

It gave a blip, uncharacteristically brief – a dim glow and gentle lap against her body – indicating simply it had heard. Surprised by the muted reaction, Moana ran a hand over her wet face and tried, “Is she – the mermaid. Is she still here?”

Another blip. Almost as if it wanted – and was trying – to answer her, but for some reason couldn’t.

“Ocean?” The water felt colder around her, still very calm. The latter in itself was unusual; she had not quite consciously registered how much so earlier, given her then speed. Surprise shifting into disquiet, Moana was abruptly aware, in a way she wasn’t usually, of just how alone she was.

At the very least, it seemed the mermaid was either gone for now or determinedly concealed. Indeed for all Moana glanced around her and saw nothing, her spine kept prickling as if there were eyes upon the back of her neck and shoulders.

A shiver passing through her limbs as the sea and air chilled yet further with the coming night, she climbed back onto her boat. Determined to shake off the odd mood attempting to possess her much as she shook out her wet hair, she turned her mind to practical matters, grasping her oar and resuming her interrupted journey towards the island, resolving to further investigate this mystery the next morning.

Still, she couldn’t keep from scanning the waters as she went; couldn't quite convince herself she wasn't being watched. And sure enough, a slender shape slowly slipped out from hiding deep down in the waters once Moana was again moving, eyes bright in the darkness, avidly tracking the progress of her craft.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Moana didn’t make it to the island.

The nearer she came to it, the more her friend seemed to struggle until her boat was barely moving and concern built in her chest and throat.

“Ocean? What’s wrong?” When she stopped attempting to sail and called out to it, it gave a single little spark and fizzle, and nothing she did thereafter summoned it back.

The excitement that typically accompanied the discovery of a mystery thus diluted by worry, Moana considered swimming across the remaining distance to the shore. A seemingly easy enough task, but for the gathering gloom and the greater cold to the air and water than she was used to. This alone wouldn’t have been enough to prevent her or even make her hesitate, were it not for the fact that something had in some way acted upon her friend.

Pacing back and forth across the deck of her craft, chafing her arms against the chill, Moana couldn’t help but acknowledge the uneasy awareness gathering in her belly, informing her of the possibility that this unknown ‘something’ might choose to act upon her next. She would face it, whatever it was, and she was determined to aid her friend by any means necessary, but had to admit it would be reassuring to do so with her trustworthy vessel beneath her feet rather than more vulnerable earth.

“It isn’t you, is it, little mermaid?” She scanned the surface of the sea in search of a bright head of hair: something quite different inside her from the tension in her belly assured her that the girl was not the one responsible for so affecting her friend.

Or perhaps she was simply telling herself this.

Decided it prudent to wait out the dark aboard her boat either way, Moana threw a cloth over her shoulders for warmth and set to making a simple supper from the remaining contents of the hold, eating with her back close to the sheet and her oar across her knees, telling herself she was being simply watchful rather than wary. But despite the steadfast familiarity of the wood and rigging around her, the Ocean’s absence – as it were – and apparent incapacity only served to increase the feeling of being watched.

“No!” Moana woke sometime later from queasy dreams into utter darkness and the absolute certainty that _something_ was slithering onto her boat with ill intent, “ _Oh_ –”

She was on her feet and sweeping out with her oar before she knew it, but the feel of it striking against something she couldn't see was still shocking enough to wrench the cry out of her throat. She swung again instinctively, harder, and this time the impact was enough to knock whatever it was off the boat: she heard a hiss as she hit it and then a splash.

“What are you?!” Oar at the ready, Moana peered over the side into fluid blackness and saw nothing: there was no moon or star up above and no sign of bioluminescence from the sea, “What do you want?”

The need to defend herself and her craft beat hard in her breast, though alarm leapt into her throat and tightened her hold on the oar when a longer and yet more venomous hiss sounded from the water. She listened hard after it stopped, yet could hear only the lap of what shallow waves there were against the wood of her boat.

She had no doubt at all it was watching her; that it could see her clearly despite the abject dark.

“You did this to the Ocean, didn’t you? You need to undo it!” It seemed ridiculous making demands in such a situation, but she didn’t dare back down. _This_ was the creature, she was sure of it: this was the one responsible.

Another hiss in response to her accusation: a vicious edge to it and the noise of something moving swiftly through the water, coming closer fast.

“Don’t you dare!” Moana braced herself for another swing –

A sudden chittering split the air.

It was an entirely different voice to that of her unknown assailant: a sweetness and a lightness to the newcomer’s cries, ringing out with unquestionable protectiveness and a welcome lack of fear. Great splashing erupted in the sea to the side of Moana, a struggle she couldn’t see, her boat rocking beneath her feet and spray wetting her face and shoulders until the hissing guttered and then abruptly cut off.

Gazing into nothingness, Moana waited as silence descended, confident that her initial attacker was gone, but her saviour remained.

“ _Thank you_ ,” she said into the stillness, finding she was smiling, “If it hurt you, please let me do whatever I can to help. And if you want, you're welcome to board my boat.”

A fluting trill sounded in reply, the tone of it caught between enthusiasm and hesitation. From it Moana gathered there was no injury – or so she very much hoped – but the mermaid was uncertain. That the girl _wanted_ to accept Moana’s latter offer, but was holding back.

Or perhaps Moana was simply telling herself this. For there was no denying how much she was hoping herself.

She spun her oar without thinking, tension making way for exhilaration and anticipation that warred with the tiredness creeping back to her now the threat was gone. She made herself relax enough to sit.

“I’m Moana of Motunui and the chain of islands to the west,” she introduced herself to the mermaid she couldn’t see, “What’s your name?”

No reply came for a long moment.

But then just as her eyelids were growing heavy, beginning to slip closed despite her best efforts to stay awake, the mermaid began to sing.

 


	4. Chapter 4

They didn’t speak the same language.

The echo of the mermaid’s singing stayed with Moana as she slipped into an easier sleep, a sweet ebb and flow reminiscent of water lapping against a distant shore, a gentle susurrus trickling into her dreams. In contrast what she had heard of the mermaid’s speaking voice reminded her more of the calls of the warm-blooded mammals that made their homes in the ocean, yet she knew in her bones that the mermaid could breathe in water as well as she could in air.

When she awoke it was to blue skies and the scent of flowers drifting over from the island, and the sound of the mermaid chittering as if deep in conversation with an as yet silent friend. Moana lay still for a moment, listening, her head pillowed on her arms, appreciating the feel of the smooth wood of her boat beneath her and the morning sun soaking into her skin. Under such circumstances the memory of her night-time assailant seemed less menacing and much more of an adventure, a mystery to solve.

The more immediate mystery – of who the mermaid was talking to – was solved when the girl let out a trill and her conversation partner chirped in reply.

“A bird?” Moana whispered, resisting the impulse to scrunch her face in the attempt to shake off the remains of sleep, and instead opened her eyes as subtly as she could, desperate not to startle the mermaid or her companion and thus risk them leaving.

She needn’t have been concerned: there was a small, round body perched on her boat, a feathered fluff–ball bouncing up and down in apparent excitement, its back turned to her as it gave a series of chirrups in fast succession. It looked much like the countless birds inhabiting the tiny islands Moana had passed yesterday, or a close cousin to them, and she eyed its wings, wondering how the stubby things could have managed the flight. All of the bird’s attention was on the mermaid and, as Moana quietly and carefully pushed herself up onto her elbows, all of her own attention was soon on her too.

She found herself unconsciously smiling.

The mermaid was afloat in the crystal clear water next to the boat, intent on something she held in both hands, taking care to keep it above the surface: the tapa cloth that had fallen unnoticed from Moana’s own shoulders the night before. The mermaid was turning the cloth back and forth in her hands, chittering to her avian friend about details she found in the material, considering it with obvious appreciation before experimenting with wrapping it over her shoulders and then her head. It was easily apparent she had little or no experience with human clothing: caught up in the girl’s enjoyment, Moana laughed without meaning to when the mermaid ended up particularly clumsily encumbered. Her enraptured fumbling with the material could only be called _cute_.

Eyes near enough the same colour as the sky flew wide open in surprise at her laughter and the mermaid flailed for a couple of heartbeats, struggling to tug the cloth off her head at the same time as darting backwards, a few strong sweeps of her tail creating distance between herself and the boat. The bird simultaneously shot out over to its friend, hovering behind her shoulder, its wings beating furiously as it erupted into tirade of tweets.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Moana soothed it, although she couldn’t stop smiling. She next addressed the mermaid, “Either of you. I’d like it if we can be friends.”

The mermaid’s blue, blue eyes were intent on Moana’s face, the surprise filtering out of her expression, becoming somehow almost – almost _awed_ and yet also mildly sheepish. She swam closer hesitantly and held up the cloth. Having accepted Moana's apology, the bird ceasing its scolding, settling onto the mermaid's shoulder, brought along for the ride.

Shifting to crouch on the edge of the boat, as close as she could get to the mermaid without slipping into the water herself, Moana shook her head, “Please keep it.”

Bright hair slid to one side as the mermaid cocked her head in return, letting out a fluting trill that held a question in it. She lifted the tapa cloth that bit closer to Moana, emotions mingling in the depth of her gaze: a touch of caution Moana hoped to eliminate plus a lot of curiosity combined with stubbornness, daring and sheer, open _interest_ Moana knew was reflected in her own face.

“It’s yours,” she insisted, certain of how much the mermaid wanted the cloth, reaching slowly down and out to close her hand very carefully over the girl’s.

Her heart thrilled as their fingers met; she saw her reaction mirrored in the mermaid’s eyes as they looked up into her own.

“It’s the least I can give you,” Moana murmured, unable to let go or look away, “You saved me last night.”

The little bird hopped down from the girl's shoulder to her arm, clacking its tiny beak as it picked its way carefully towards Moana. A touch of wind rose like an attempt at a breath only to fall again, the ocean untouched by it, the water remaining unnaturally still – but all Moana knew was the feeling of her heart beating and the smile that bloomed on the mermaid’s face.

“ _Thank you_ ,” she said. It wasn’t the words Moana was familiar with or any sounds that she recognised, but she was confident of their meaning.

For indeed they didn’t speak the same language. But Moana was absolutely sure they understood each other nonetheless.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Their fingers were linked together.

Moana was aware of her heart beating faster than usual as she ran her gaze over the mermaid’s face. She was also aware she was still smiling and couldn’t seem to stop it. She wasn’t the only one: the mermaid kept glancing from Moana’s face to her body, her necklace, her clothes, equally fascinated.

The little bird had hopped down the length of the mermaid’s arm and onto Moana’s, alighting on her wrist and aiming a friendly peck at her thumb before fluttering off to investigate her boat. Moana was conscious of its chirping, but her attention remained on the mermaid, arrested by her red lips, as red as her hair, curved in a dazzling smile; the joyful questions brimming in her eyes.

A little flame ignited in Moana’s chest as the mermaid lifted her free hand up towards her.

She caught her body swaying into the not quite touch; kept herself from doing so. The mermaid’s fingers stopped just short of Moana’s necklace as she cocked her head in enquiry, the inquisitive gesture lacking her previous caution, boldness and curiosity outweighing the shyness in her gaze.

“My gramma gave it to me,” Moana explained. The mermaid didn’t take hold of the shell, although she looked as if she wanted to. She let out a long low croon.

Something about her expression made Moana wonder if the mermaid could sense what the necklace had used to hold. She steadied her balance, this time allowing herself to lean out further over the side of her boat as the mermaid raised her hand that bit higher.

Slender fingers grazed Moana’s chin, one brushing the corner of her lips. Startling backwards, Moana gasped.

Flinching, the mermaid made a querying noise.

“N–no, it’s okay,” Moana hastened to assure her, not knowing why in that instant all of her grandmother’s stories had rushed back to her: why she’d had the sudden dizzying feeling she was about to topple head first into the sea and –

( _and be dragged deep into the water, writhing in breathless desperation, trapped in the unforgiving tangles of the mermaid’s hair –_ )

“It’s okay,” she repeated firmly, eager to banish the shadow of doubt dimming the mermaid’s gaze, tension in the grip of the girl’s other hand as it clutched her own. The mermaid was similarly clutching the gifted tapa cloth against her chest, both cradling it like it was precious and clinging to it in concern.

Her gaze was beseeching as she scanned Moana’s face, eyebrows flexing apologetically.

“Really,” Moana insisted, “You can touch me, if you want to. I –” Her voice slipped a little; she edited herself unthinkingly, “Can I join you?”

Diving into the water seemed to her the best recourse to counter thoughts of drowning and reassure her friend.

Bright blue eyes widened, but Moana was already squeezing the mermaid’s fingers briefly before releasing them, casting herself impulsively into the sea.

She caught a flash of beautiful shimmering scales under the surface and a startled striped yellow fish, the seaweed forest swaying down below, and then she was surfacing, blinking saltwater out of her eyes and swiping her hair from her face.

The mermaid was staring at her in surprised delight, coupled with an edge of obvious concern.

“I can swim!” Moana couldn’t help but laugh in response, rolling easily onto her back to prove it, watching the way the worry fled from the mermaid’s face, replaced by pure joy. The girl swam around Moana with quick twists of her tail, a wide circle drawing quickly nearer, and then they were both laughing, the sound ringing out over the sea.

“Here,” Moana held her hand out for the tapa cloth, catching hold of a rope and twisting upwards to place it on board her boat when the mermaid passed it over, “Let’s put it up here for safekeeping.” She had so many questions for the mermaid – where she came from; whether she had family, others like her; whether she knew any of the gods (or demigods). Whether they had the same gods, even.

But for now –

A splash of a tail and the mermaid appeared swift by her side, fingers nudging Moana's arm playfully before she darted away.

“Let’s swim!” the mermaid might as well have said – and so they did.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for kudos :) Please scroll down to A/N at end of chap for a possible trigger.

For all of the mermaid’s playful happiness as they splashed and swam, she circled noticeably close whenever Moana dived under the surface, within the range of hovering, her hands half-rising and then falling as if she had to keep catching and controlling the impulse to reach out.

The third time this happened, Moana reached out herself to complete the action, linking their fingers together as they had been previously, seeking to offer comfort and certainty through the touch. Her own hair was drifting around them, the echo of her heartbeat resounding in her ears; the side-to-side sweeps of the mermaid’s tail mesmerising, the girl’s slender shoulders relaxing as Moana smiled at her underwater, holding her gaze.

It wasn’t the same without the Ocean’s help, but she had always been skilled at swimming nonetheless. For all her father had refused to ever enter the water, he had insisted Moana learn not long after she had taken her first steps; not that she had needed the encouragement. Some of her earliest memories were of Tui watching sternly from the shore, his arms folded and face taut, while her mother and grandmother held her steady amongst the waves.

However as soon as Moana had shown proficiency at and delight in swimming, her father had then come to insist she stay away from the sea.

While this had been a point of great contention between them during her youth, Moana knew well enough now that Tui’s seemingly contradictory behaviour had been born of his love for her, and from fear.

She squeezed the mermaid’s fingers gently now, indicating the seaweed forest beneath them, seeking to communicate her desire to explore. There had been no sign of Moana’s night-time antagonist since the sun’s rising, though she’d been alert for it, and no sensation of being watched, but that indefinable shape lurking amongst the seaweed beckoned. Moana kept seeing it in her peripheral vision, her curiosity snagged by it time and again.

Despite the crystal clear water, she could not discern its contours. She could see tiny glinting fish darting between the long strands of seaweed, could see that rounded little yellow and blue fish peeking out at her and the mermaid from its hiding place under her boat, could see a great creature passing by in the distance, intent on its own travels further out to sea – but she could not seem to fix her gaze successfully on that secret shape amongst the swaying fronds.

Something about this gave her the impression she was not _supposed_ to see it; that she was supposed to stay well away. A spark of danger set up residence inside her, buzzing in her teeth and quickening her breath.

This made Moana all the more determined to investigate: she was certain of the chance the shape could be linked to the mystery creature and its malice; that it could be connected to the Ocean’s listlessness, its lack of response and loss of power.

Following Moana’s line of sight, the mermaid dug sharp white teeth into her plush red lower lip. An amount of conflict in her gaze as she glanced back at Moana, competing with a gleam of excitement: it seemed they shared a propensity for adventure and intrigue.

“Will we get in a lot of trouble?” Moana grinned at her new friend when they surfaced so she could breathe, laughing when the mermaid trilled as if in agreement. They were both slicking wet hair from their faces: daring, Moana lifted her hand to the mermaid’s temple, brushing a red strand away from smooth pale skin, weaving the lock around the star-shaped sea-flower nestled behind the mermaid’s ear. The mermaid returned the gesture in kind, catching at a brown curl before running her slender fingers over Moana’s shoulder as if admiring the contrast of their colouring.

A fine tremor raced through Moana’s limbs and into her chest, made her lips part a little on an unknown word as their gazes met. The moment stretched out, only broken when the puffball of a bird darted over to them from Moana's boat, flitting about their heads chittering.

“We haven’t forgotten you,” Moana reassured the bird (although she mostly had, in honesty), shaking herself, her fingers sliding with some reluctance from red hair.

Smiling first at Moana and then up at the feathered distraction, the mermaid chittered back to the bird as if telling it of their plans, while Moana set her mind to their task and readied herself, preparing to dive deeper than she usually did without the Ocean’s aid. The prospect did not trouble her; it excited her rather, and she was gladdened to take a step towards hopefully discovering – and alleviating – the trouble affecting her old friend.

She couldn’t help glancing over at the mermaid even so, not quite startled to find blue eyes on her likewise. For all they had shifted apart somewhat at the bird’s interruption, the girl had once again drawn close.

“I can do it,” Moana assured her (had the mermaid seen humans drown before? Had she witnessed it, even if she had not been instrumental in their deaths? Was this the reason for her watchful protectiveness?).

A nod; the mermaid crooned. Moana was uncertain how much the girl comprehended of the actual words she spoke, but her new friend responded readily to her expression and tone.

“Let’s see if we can find some answers down there,” Moana told her.

They dived.

It turned out it was not entirely unlike being carried by the Ocean after all. The mermaid was an immensely strong swimmer, innately graceful, and Moana found herself caught up joyfully in her friend’s slipstream, pulled in towards her until they were almost touching along the lengths of their bodies as they spiralled downwards like a dance.

The mermaid’s fluting whistle sounded very much like a song; there came a chorus of cries as other warm-blooded mammals echoed her, their answers rippling through the water from elsewhere. The music of it stirred Moana’s blood; she longed to join in.

So caught up in their twinned descent, it came almost as a shock to slow and feel the first fronds of the seaweed forest tickling her face. It was with a mixture of determination and a trickle of undeniable reluctance that Moana turned her attention away from the mermaid and onto their quarry.

The shadow amongst the seaweed was a wreck.

She had already suspected it; now she was sure. Despite this knowledge, it was difficult to look at the shifting shape for any length of time; it made her head hurt the nearer they came to it and her eyes stung when she attempted to look upon it directly. Glancing at the mermaid as they navigated their way through the forest towards the wreck, Moana found a crease drawn between those fine brows and an expression of both keenness and caution on her friend’s face.

Moana knew she was not going to have much time to explore before she needed air, but she was going to make the most of the opportunity she had. She squinted at the wreck, pushing through the discomfort needling her as she did so, ignoring the pin-pricks darting over her skin. It looked a mishmash of vessels, broken bits hammed together haphazardly to form a hulking whole.

For all its tangled parts, something about it inescapably implied a mockery of one of her people’s ships.

The mermaid snatched Moana’s hand, clutching tightly, letting out a noise that was not at all songlike, right as alarm hit hard in Moana’s breast.

There was a bone.

She could see it easily, in sharp contrast to her struggle to focus on the wreck: it was white and gleaming, distinctive, caught in amongst the shattered fragments of the side of the wreck, picked clean of flesh. It did not look old. As soon as she had seen it, Moana began to see others poking here and there out of the ruin, a shiver crawling up her spine as she realised the bones were littered amongst human paraphernalia, a motley collection of items that had no place at the bottom of the sea.

The items were arranged in the nooks and crannies of the outer shell of the jumbled wreck as if something – some _one_ – had placed them there on display; as if they were trophies.

Or a warning.

The mermaid moaned at the sight of it all, the noise one of shock, rich with anger and grief.

Moana forced herself to inspect the nearest entry point to the wreck, however much something did not seem to want to allow her to look at it: a ragged hole torn in the wood that led into impenetrable darkness. Yet amongst that darkness, something glinted.

Although she well knew she shouldn’t, she leaned into the darkness to scoop up the shimmering stone.

_“Moana!”_

The sound of her name in the mermaid's voice shocked her – Moana snapped her head around to stare at her friend as her fingers caught up the stone, the last of her breath hammering in her throat.

Outright alarm filled the mermaid’s face: she was staring in horror at the wreckage behind Moana. Whipping her head back around to see, Moana registered movement: something large and sinister emerging from the depths of the darkness within the wreck.

Long cold slick wizened fingers wrapped implacably around her hand holding the stone.

 

 

 

_A/N: Just in case, trigger warning for past deaths, implied due to violence and / or drowning._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: non-descriptive mention of past character death.

Moana didn’t spare a moment in which to regret not having her oar.

Instead she pulled hard against the gnarled fingers latched around hers, gritting her teeth against a cry as she dug her feet in against the sea floor, ignoring the pain shooting up her arm to her shoulder as she strained to get free.

The grip only grew crueller: the creature wasn't attempting to prise the glowing stone out of her grip, but rather was doing its utmost to drag her into the black depthless belly of the wreck.

_“Moana,”_ the mermaid cried, “ _Brace yourself!”_ – (and Moana could understand her, how could she _understand_ her?) – squeezing Moana’s other hand before abruptly letting go.

“Mmph!” Moana caught herself from losing her balance even as she cast about for something to aid her escape, gaze darting over the battered trinkets decorating the wreck in frantic search of anything useful.

Shadows began to dart around the edges of her vision as her lungs burned.

“ _Let her go!_ ” Hefting a large jagged stone up off the sea floor in both hands, the mermaid brought it down on the wizened wrist with surprising strength. Moana’s assailant howled at the impact, an unearthly shriek. The mermaid struck again right as Moana yanked with all her strength –

And then she was jolting back, tumbling free; the owner of the ghastly hand yowling, vanishing into the hidden heart of its den, spewing curses as it went.

_Air._

_Air air air –_

Moana’s body took over from her mind in that instant; it was all she knew, all she could think.

She was starting desperately up for the sparkling surface of the ocean, far too distant overhead, when concerned blue eyes and red hair filled her vision, a slender hand gently catching her shoulder.

_“Let me help you,”_ the mermaid said, “ _Please_.”

_Oh,_ Moana managed to think as smooth, cool lips slotted over her own. _Oh_ –

The mermaid’s breath was not as oxygen-rich as her body craved, but it was _air_ nonetheless, and Moana’s eyes squeezed shut without her willing them to as she pressed back against the mouth covering hers, clinging to the mermaid unconsciously, shaking with a combination of adrenaline and relief.

Her mind whirling, she managed to force herself to pull back once she felt she could hold her breath safely again, withdrawing just far enough to press her forehead against the girl’s in heartfelt gratitude.

_Thank you, little mermaid. Thank you._

Moana received a smile in return – and an odd sensation of warmth emanating from the stone. She resisted the urge to glance down at it right there and then, squinting instead at the gap in the wreckage, checking the creature had not taken the opportunity to come creeping back.

_“The Twisted Eel,”_ the mermaid explained, _“The Sea Witch's magic has changed her almost beyond recognition, but she still won’t emerge in daylight. We’re safe for now so long as we stay out of her reach.”_ Her cool fingers slid over Moana’s aching hand, _“You’re hurt, aren’t you; I’m so sorry. I should have investigated on my own.”_

Moana shook her head firmly even as she gestured to indicate her own responsibility: she had suggested they explore the wreck and she had chosen to impulsively reach after the shiny something inside.

Thinking of that shiny something…

The stone felt as if it was pulsing in time with her heartbeat. A quick inspection revealed that its glow had increased, ribbons of colour shot through it like veins.

“ _Oh,_ ” the mermaid murmured. The sound was one of amazement and realisation - but she was looking at Moana, not the stone.

_“You understand me!”_ she breathed. She continued before Moana could respond, the words spilling out of her in mounting excitement, _“I was speaking to you as if you could, in the_ hope _that you could, but you really can, can’t you. You really can understand me!”_

The mermaid's giddy joy was infectious. Moana found she was smiling helplessly in response, “Mm-hm.”

The most wonderful expression of delight bloomed on her friend’s face.

_“Ariel,”_ the mermaid announced, _“My name is Ariel!_ ” She clasped Moana’s hand gently in both of hers, drawing it close to her chest in a gesture of happiness too great to contain, _“Let’s go to the surface and then we can both speak; I so hope I can understand your language now too! There’s so much I want to ask you. So much for us to talk about!”_

“Mm-hm,” Moana couldn’t deny she had the same ardent hope. For all they had understood each other's intent from the beginning, it would be amazing to be able to properly converse with her new friend.

The stone had to be responsible, surely. She couldn't think of any other reason why she could now comprehend the mermaid's fluting whistles and trills.

The mermaid. That was, Ariel.

Moana wanted to say it, to speak it out loud. Her heart singing at the knowledge of her friend’s name.

She opened her shell necklace one-handed with the ease of long practice. The glowing stone did not tuck snugly inside it in the same manner as a certain previous infinitely precious stone, but it fit nonetheless.

_“I’ve never seen a human with such markings before,”_ Ariel was avidly examining the tattoos that spiralled over the back of Moana’s hand and up her forearm. A flush sprang into her cheeks, _“I’m sorry, was that rude of me to say so? I’m not – I've only ever seen humans from a distance in secret. I watch – that is, I used to watch –”_

Sorrow replaced flustered joy and curiosity as she glanced away, curling in on herself slightly as she looked over at the broken trophies lining the wreck, the bits and pieces of lives lost at sea.

_“I used to tell myself he was a prince. I tried to save him when his boat sank in a storm, but –”_

Her gaze skirted the bones.

_I'm sorry._ Moana tightened her fingers around Ariel's, a pang striking her on behalf of her friend.

_“It was a long time ago,”_ Ariel shook herself, uncurling, _“And I vowed then I'd do whatever I could to make the seas safer for humans.”_ Resolve entered her gaze, _“Which will include dealing with the Eel and the Witch.”_

Moana nodded: she would be investigating these characters herself. Instinct told her they were the cause of the Ocean's trouble. And it was important the seas were safe for Ariel and her fellow merfolk as well as humans.

When their gazes met, she indicated the surface. It would not do to linger here much longer in this place of fear and death. The Eel may have retreated, but she could not ignore the suspicion it was listening.

She also needed to breathe.

Ariel glanced at Moana through her long lashes before she bit her lip in a mixture of not quite shyness and something that seemed almost like – very much like _hope_.

She asked, _“_ _May I help you again?”_

There was no need for her to specify how.

_Please._ Moana was aware it wasn’t only lack of oxygen that made her eager to say yes. She leaned forwards into it with an undeniable spark of eagerness as the mermaid bridged the distance between them.

And if she stayed pressed close to Ariel for a few heartbeats longer than necessary, once the breath had ended, Ariel remained holding her just the same.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having internet trouble - apologies for the deleted update. Thanks for the kudos last chapter :)

They surfaced slowly in contrast to their descent.

Ariel glided alongside Moana, effortlessly keeping pace. They swam through great shafts of sunlight piercing the water, leaving behind them the lurking Eel and the eerie wrongness of the wreckage concealed amongst the maze-like fronds of the seaweed forest.

Moana only had to look at Ariel to find Ariel looking back at her. She did not ask for her friend to give her air as they ascended and nor did Ariel offer, but instead they seemed to come together naturally at semi-regular intervals, their fingers tangling as did their hair. Each one a little hesitant to meet the other's gaze directly after they parted, yet each one lingering when it came to that moment to draw back.

Moana’s heart was beating hard and not from exertion or from her fight with the Twisted Eel. She felt very conscious of the sensation of being alive, vital, of blood moving through her body and of her muscles working as she swam, each breath that soaked into her lungs all the more precious for being a gift.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Ariel’s mouth against her own, the way they fit together so neatly and so well. The way Ariel drew her lower lip in briefly between her teeth more than once after they separated. The fact Moana could taste the mermaid on her own lips when she gave in to the temptation to lick at them: an enticing taste she could not quantify beneath the salt of the sea.

Mortal and mermaid paused in tandem before breeching the surface.

“ _If I don’t understand you above the waves, will you come under the water again?”_ Ariel’s fingers tightened in both question and hope around Moana’s own.

 _Of course!_ Moana backed up her nod with a grin. Aware of the possibility the spell might only work underwater; that she might not continue to comprehend the mermaid’s language when aboard her craft or if they continued onto the island's little beach.

Was that something Ariel would want to do, or even be able? Would she be comfortable surrounded by air and not sea?

Moana could not pretend away how much she wanted Ariel to board her boat. The desire was perhaps irrational, but she longed to share that part of herself with the mermaid; the vessel that had stood by her through so much in the past, the wood and ropes that seemed sometimes a physical manifestation of half her heart.

The other half of Moana’s heart lay far from these clear, cool waters: the island of her birth, her people and her family. What would her tribe make of the existence of mermaids? Would Ariel even want them to know?

First things first.

Gathering her thoughts back to the present, Moana huffed in mild startlement, a few bubbles leaking from the corner of her mouth, when something bumped her elbow as if to nudge her aside in its haste. It turned out to be that round striped little fish, darting down from the underbelly of Moana’s boat to burrow desperately under the mermaid’s arm, snuggling into her.

It was entirely non-fishlike behaviour.

But the mermaid was relaxed and laughing, hugging the little fish in return, speaking to it in whirs and chirps so quickly Moana couldn't make out the words before she felt a rush of warmth against her collarbone, as if the spell of the stone had trouble translating speedily enough before it then caught up and the sounds became understandable.

Having encountered a loquacious monster crab some years ago in another realm, a talking fish was surprising but not immensely so.

Said fish was chiding Ariel for having left it, for having been gone so long, for having risked her safety with –

Well, with a human.

Moana got the impression it was probably a good thing the fish was evidently unaware of their encounter with the Twisted Eel. She raised an eyebrow at it when she saw it peeking at her and couldn’t help smiling when it squeaked and darted behind the bright curtain of Ariel’s hair.

 _“You silly,”_ Ariel was repressing giggles, her tone one of mock-sternness, plucking the fish out from its hiding place to drop a kiss between its eyes, _“All these years and you’re still no braver.”_ She shot a sparkling glance at Moana as she introduced the pair, _“Moana, this is my very best friend Flounder. Flounder, this is my lovely new friend Moana. Look at how beautiful she is!”_

 _Ariel!_ Moana would have given much to be able to reply. She couldn’t deny the warmth that bloomed inside her at being named the mermaid’s friend – or the soft uncurling of unbidden pleasure at Ariel's description of her. Nor could she deny the knowledge she thought Ariel beautiful too, and not just the brilliant colours of her shimmering scales.

The fish inched cautiously towards Moana on the mermaid’s prompting, its eyes huge and almost childlike in its expressive face.

 _Hello, little one._ Moana held out her fingers in mute encouragement. It bumped her knuckles shyly in greeting before whipping away, vanishing behind her boat, its courage spent.

 _“You guppy!”_ Ariel called after it, the apparent insult ringing with fondness, and then she turned an excited grin onto Moana, reaching out herself so their fingers once again joined. She glanced up at the surface, _“Shall we?”_

 _Yes!_ Moana returned the grin wholeheartedly.

They swam side by side, hand in hand, the last few metres until they crested the waves, emerging into the encompassing golden glow of the midday sun and the dry windless expanse of the sky arching high above the water.

“Ariel,” Moana was saying at once without completely consciously meaning to, and –

“Moana,” Ariel was saying in response, and then they were clutching at each other in joy, because they could understand each other, they could, and –

The warmth from the stone inside the shell pendent of Moana’s necklace seemed to suddenly spill over, sweeping through her whole body until she felt as if she was alight with it, and –

“Oh,” Ariel was gasping, “Moana, what's happening? You're glowing!”

"It isn't me; it's the stone," Moana started to answer, before realising she  _was_  in fact alight with whatever spell it was: literally so, a sparking shine illuminating the tattooed whirls adorning her bronze-brown skin.

It was entirely reminiscent of the light that heralded the transformations of a certain demigod.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some very loose references to Maori concepts and mythology; no offence intended. Many thanks for kudos last chapter :)

“Um,” Moana blinked down at herself, at the light. What was going on?

“Oh my gosh…” The stunned exclamation sounded just above a whisper, Ariel’s tone one of awe. Her thumb brushed Moana’s bruised wrist, soothing over her quickening pulse. Cool fingertips tracing the ink on her skin, chasing the glow.

Something seemed to awaken inside Moana at the touch.

“What?” She shuddered at the feeling of it as that something seemed to turn over within her; oddly, intently and most definitely _conscious_. Some great, ancient awareness rolling over underneath her ribs in an overwhelming pulse of sensation.

It was as if the entire Ocean rose to occupy Moana’s small mortal frame; as if a vast yet somehow familiar consciousness looked out at the world for a split second from her eyes.

The light spilling from her tattoos ebbed as the immense being settled down once more, seeping into the water around her, lost back to slumber.

“Oh,” Realising she was shivering, Moana instructed herself firmly to draw in a deeper breath, concentrating until she succeeded. She trod water, determinedly centring herself, unable to resist the impulse to call out to her old friend, “Ocean?”

No answer came. The shimmering stone lay cool within the shell pendant upon her breast.

“That was amazing!” Curiosity and excitement sparkled in Ariel’s gaze, “It was magic, wasn’t it. I’ve never seen a human do magic before.” She paused, focusing intently on Moana, concern shaping the questioning angle of her mouth, “You are all right, aren’t you? It didn’t hurt?”

“Yes,” Moana managed a nod. She felt all right, for all that she felt – odd, “It didn’t hurt.”

“Good,” Ariel sighed in relief, “ _Good_.” Her laugh contained just the slightest tremor, “Do you know that, for just a moment, you didn’t look like yourself at all.”

“What did I look like?” Moana felt strangely winded, as if she’d been swimming fast and far with all her strength, and yet inexplicably buoyant at the same time, even dizzied. She reached out, looping her arm around reassuring wood and rope, hooking an elbow up onto her boat; the feel and presence of it grounding her far more effectively than if she’d left the water for dry earth.

“You looked –” Nibbling her lower lip as she sought the right description, Ariel looped her own arm around Flounder when he shyly surfaced to nuzzle into her shoulder, pretending he wasn’t stealing glimpses again at Moana.

Moana found a smile for the striped little fish, wondering what he might have seen. Distracted, neither she nor Ariel had yet thought to remember or check for the little puffball of a bird.

“I can’t properly explain it,” Ariel gave in on a tiny huff, although a smile soon evened out her pout, “Something almost beyond defining. But perhaps this is close –”

Her following croon formed a crescendo, achingly clear, rising against the backdrop of the endless sky.

“A dolphin?” Moana knew the moment she spoke the word that slipped into her mind that it wasn’t quite right. The stone hummed within the pendant as if to concur with this impression.

“Yes,” Ariel then immediately corrected herself, “Sort of. But more than that: it looked as if you became a dolphin, but also – _more_. My kind, merfolk, we’re all magical in a sense. But you looked like – like –”

Her croon, this time, rippled; something wild and changeable implicated in it like the wind and waves. And something beyond that, something like –

“ _Taniwha_?” Moana’s brow dimpled as she tried to parse her friend’s meaning. She shook her head against the insistent message coming to her from the stone, “No, it couldn’t have been –”

Surely not.

But something inside Moana was determined to insist Ariel’s croon had not meant _taniwha_ , a water spirit. Instead it had meant _kaitiaki_.

A guardian.

But –

But. Gramma Tala had always told Moana that aside from the gods themselves, only demigods could change their form, be it into fish or beast or bird. And in Moana’s experience even demigods needed some token, some artefact into which to channel their magic.

Could the stone be some form of similar artefact? Yet why would it act upon her, a mortal?

The word _kaitiaki w_ hispered across her senses once again.

“O-okay,” If the gods wanted Moana to be a guardian, if it turned out she had been chosen a second time, she could do that. She would do so gladly. In truth it simply described in a way what she already was in her heart: bound to both the waters and the land, compelled to do whatever she could to protect those who inhabited them.

“Okay?” Ariel echoed, her free hand held out towards Moana in reassurance or entreaty.

“Okay,” Moana caught hold of her friend’s fingers. She nodded firmly, “Yes.”

“Oh good,” There was a hint of impishness in Ariel’s answering smile, “I’m glad you don’t mind being a dolphin; it suits you. But your stomach’s also rumbling. I think perhaps you should eat something.”

“It is?” At the mention of it, Moana grew sharply aware of just how very hungry and thirsty she was. Her chuckle was rueful, “I think you’re right.”

She had been too enthusiastic to explore with her new friend to stop for breakfast, after all, and by now it had to be gone time for lunch.

“Would you like to join me?” she asked Ariel simply, thumb sliding unconsciously over the mermaid’s knuckles as she inclined her head towards her vessel, “I’d like it very much if you would. If you feel comfortable leaving the water.”

“You want me to – climb aboard?” Ariel’s eyes widened, her red lips parting in a round little ‘oh’ as she followed Moana’s gaze, “Can I really? _May_ I?”

Moana had to laugh, although her heart was all of a sudden beating hard, “Of course you may.”

She found herself with an armful of delighted mermaid without warning, Flounder ‘eeping’ and escaping back into the sea. Mortal and mermaid clutched at each other, nearly sinking in a second of uncoordinated joy, before an easy sweep of Ariel’s tail brought them above the surface again.

“ _Oh my gosh_ – really?” Ariel was hugging Moana, beaming, “Yes! I’d love to go on your boat. More than anything.” Her air of impishness returned, “That is, almost anything. Very nearly the most.”

Moana was grinning, pleased and touched by Ariel's happiness at her offer, and at her friend's acceptance; at the discovery they both so wanted the same thing.

“You can tell me what it is you’d like even more than boarding my boat while we eat something,” she couldn't quash the fondness in her tone or the impulse that came with it to gently tease, “I’d love to know.”

This was entirely the truth.

“I’d love to know all about you too,” Ariel was assuring her, clumsily attempting to assist without much success as Moana began to navigate first herself and then the mermaid onto her craft, “I want to know everything about you.”

Moana’s cheeks prickled with a little flush of warmth, “I’m happy to tell you anything you want to know.”

Tossing her wet hair out of the way over her shoulders, she grasped Ariel’s elbows carefully, leaning her weight backwards as she crouched upon the side of her boat, hoisting her friend upwards as Ariel failed to do quite as much as she could to help.

The mermaid got the giggles instead.

“Sorry, I –” She could hardly speak because of them, snorting in the attempt to both wriggle herself upwards and snatch in a breath, “I’m just so excited! I’ve never done anything like this before. The ships I’ve explored in the past have always been under the sea.”

Moana found herself giggling just a little too, although her response was serious, “Don’t let me hurt you by accident.”

Ariel's answer rang with certainty, “You won’t." Letting go of Moana, she drew back a bit, “Here, catch me!”

Overcompensating, she shot up out of the water with a great lash of her tail, all but launching herself into Moana’s arms, sending them both tumbling backwards in a jumble of limbs onto the deck.

 

 

 

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Update 06/19: Many apologies writer's block and computer death have prevented me updating, but I do hope to get back into it and finish this fic. Thanks so much for comments and kudos :)


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